


Carry You Through

by herwhiteknight



Category: RWBY
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herwhiteknight/pseuds/herwhiteknight
Summary: In that moment, she recognizes Ilia’s voice as clear as a bell, as clear as destiny.
Relationships: Ilia Amitola/Pyrrha Nikos
Kudos: 8





	Carry You Through

**Author's Note:**

> found a prompt on tumblr: "you didn't have to carry this weight alone" and my mind screamed GREEK FRECKLES.
> 
> also since these characters never met in canon, it means that i can twist canon however the fuck i want to create whatever angst i like :))))

Pyrrha learns about their deaths through a feeling. Through a sound. A scream across Beacon’s courtyard - one of anguish, one of rage, one of grief. She doesn’t know her that well at all, really. But in that moment, she recognizes Ilia’s voice as clear as a bell, as clear as destiny.

Ilia is screaming, and Pyrrha feels as if her world collapses around her. Crumbling. She wont realize until later, however, just how apt a metaphor that feeling ends up being.

She runs across the grounds, uncaring of onlookers gaping, uncaring of those who get in her way. Her semblance activates without thinking, without a shred of awareness on her part. It resonates in front of her, tossing away any student bearing anything metallic at all. Since she’s sprinting across the training grounds, that practically means all of them. 

She doesn’t see them. She only sees Ilia, her skin flaring red and orange and black and red and black and red again. And she’s surrounded.

“So those were _your_ parents that they were talking about?” a voice sneers, and Pyrrha doesn’t have to be close - or have Blake’s acute hearing - to catch the derisive laughter within their tone. 

“God, you must be _so_ upset,” another voice scoffs.

“Really?” Pyrrha’s close enough now to see a group of girls, led by a taller black-haired girl, crowding in around her. “I couldn’t tell _at all_ ,” the leader smirks, then tugs on Ilia’s rapidly changing ponytail.

Pyrrha regards them just long enough as she closes in on them to make a note of their team so she can request to _practice_ with them later before shoving them out of the way. Her semblance still flared high, one girl wearing a breastplate actually went flying as Pyrrha knelt down beside Ilia. The rest of the team screamed and fled.

“I’m here,” Pyrrha murmurs, cradling Ilia in close to her chest and tucking her head into her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

Ilia barely registers Pyrrha’s presence at all - and she certainly doesn’t have the mental capacity to question her sudden appearance, or the fact that a complete stranger would care about her at all.

Instead, out of the hollowness, “They… they’re _gone_.”

“I’m _so_ so sorry,” Pyrrha breathes against her hair, and begins to rock her back and forth as they remain huddled together on their knees. Honestly, Pyrrha’s not sure if it helps, but she does it anyway - because when she was little and scared of the darkness, her mother’s arms and gentle movements were the only thing that held her together.

It takes a few minutes, a few hours, but eventually, Ilia is able to lift her head. She blinks, dislodging a few tears that her grief hadn’t managed to release. Even still, she only has enough energy for one word. “Why?”

There’s so many answers that Pyrrha could offer to that question, but as she studies Ilia’s expression, watching her eyes and her skin fade back to normal, clearly emotionally spent, Pyrrha knows that those answers only came down to one simple explanation. “Because you needed someone to carry you,” she says quietly.

And for Ilia, in that singular moment, it is enough.


End file.
